


Close Your Eyes and Dream of Me

by IronWoman359



Series: IronWoman359's Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Knight Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, M/M, Prince Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25135216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWoman359/pseuds/IronWoman359
Summary: Prince Roman is being held by enemy forces and interrogated for information about the crown. He’s holding onto hope, because he’s certain that his knight Virgil will never rest until he’s rescued. But how long can that hope last?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: IronWoman359's Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746898
Comments: 13
Kudos: 214
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Close Your Eyes and Dream of Me

_“Prince Rooomaaan.”_

The sickly sweet, singsong voice echoed off the stone walls, pulling Roman from his fitful rest. He stirred, and the chains around his wrists and ankles clinked together as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Rise and shine, your highness,” cooed the voice as the heavy iron door to his cell swung open with a bang. Rough hands grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet, and he lifted his head just enough to see the familiar face of the inquisitor hovering inches away from him. “It’s time for us to begin.”

Roman spat at him. 

The man slowly reached up to touch the drop of saliva, and Roman held his breath, but then he simply smiled, patting Roman’s cheek in mock affection.

“How lovely to see you in good spirits today,” he said, his sweet tone never wavering. 

He spun sharply on his heel and walked out of the cell, and the guards holding Roman followed. Once, Roman would have struggled against them, fighting every step of the way, but he knew better now not to waste his energy. He’d need every ounce of strength he could muster to make it through what was coming.

He stayed quietly compliant as they dragged him into an all too familiar room and hoisted his arms over his head. They attached the shackles around his wrists to a chain hanging from the ceiling, then the guards took their leave, leaving Roman alone with the inquisitor. He circled Roman slowly, eyeing him up and down, and Roman tried his best not to tense up every time the man left his field of vision. 

“Let’s start with an easy question today,” said the inquisitor, finally stopping at Roman’s left side. Roman kept his eyes forward, and inhaled through his nose for four seconds. 

“You might not know the answer,” he continued. “But I want you to really think about it.” 

Roman held his breath for seven seconds, then exhaled through his mouth for eight seconds.

“How long have you been here with me?” 

Roman blinked, and stuttered in his next inhale. 

“Well?” the inquisitor asked, and Roman could hear the smirk in his voice.

_Don’t listen to him, don’t listen to him,_ part of Roman’s mind begged, but Roman couldn’t help it. 

How long _had_ it been? There were no windows in the dungeon, no sun or stars to use to keep track of the passing days. He’d tried, in the beginning, to keep track using how often they fed him or let him sleep, but there was no consistent pattern. There was only when he was conscious and when he was not, when he was in pain or in slightly less pain. 

“Surely, it’s been too long,” the inquisitor continued. “Surely, if anyone really cared about finding their missing prince, they’d have come for you by now?” 

_Don’t listen to him, don’t listen to him, don’t listen to him..._

“They’ve abandoned you,” he murmured in Roman’s ear. “Your life means nothing to them; why show them any loyalty when they’ve so clearly cast you aside?” 

Roman wasn’t an idiot. He knew that, as the Seventh Prince and youngest son of the King, he wasn’t exactly the highest on the kingdom’s list of priorities. But even if his father didn’t care if he was missing, he knew there was _someone_ out there looking for him. There had to be, because while his father may not have even noticed he was gone, there was no way that his personal knight would be that blind. And Roman knew that if Virgil was looking for him, he wouldn’t _ever_ stop. Roman just had to hold on and wait for him, no matter how long it took. 

“Well?” 

Roman turned his head, and glared at his captor. 

“Go to hell.”

The inquisitor sighed, shaking his head as he stepped behind Roman again. 

“You know it’d be easier to just give in, your highness.” He circled back around, and the torchlight glinted off the knife he now held in his hand. 

_Breathe in for four. Hold for seven. Breathe out for eight._

The inquisitor grinned.

“But I must admit, this way is more fun for me.” 

* * *

Virgil was the most beautiful man that Roman had ever seen. He was tall and strong, with dark, chocolate brown hair swooping over his forehead. His smile, though rare, lit up his face like starlight, and the first time Roman had heard him laugh, he knew he was completely gone. A knight was technically below Roman’s stature, but really, how could Roman be expected not to lose himself in those deep, dark blue eyes until the rest of the world fell away and only the two of them remained? 

He pictured those eyes now as he hung limply from the ceiling, barely strong enough to keep his legs standing up underneath him. Old wounds from previous “sessions” throbbed painfully underneath the new cuts, bruises, and burns that littered his body. Distantly, he was aware that the inquisitor was speaking, asking him another question, but it was no good trying to focus on his voice. Roman didn’t have anything to say to him anyway; he wasn’t going to talk, no matter what was done to him. For now, he was content to drift away, dreaming of Virgil’s face. 

“None of that, your highness,” the inquisitor hissed, grabbing a fistful of Roman’s hair and pulling his head back. “We are not finished here yet.”

He held up his knife, letting it hover in Roman’s vision for a moment before resting the blade against Roman’s cheek. 

“It’s a simple question,” he murmured. “And as much fun as you are to play with, don’t fool yourself into thinking I won’t kill you if you continue to cause me more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Sir!”

The inquisitor drew back, glaring at the guard who’d burst in without warning. 

“I am working!” he spat, and the guard bowed hurriedly. 

“Apologies, Sir! But there’s an urgent report that’s come in, and I was asked to fetch you–” 

“Alright, alright,” the inquisitor sighed, releasing Roman’s hair and stepping away. He strode out of the torture chamber, and Roman closed his eyes, forcing himself to keep breathing the way Virgil had taught him. 

How long the inquisitor was gone, Roman wasn’t sure, but when he looked up at the sound of footsteps, the man’s face was there in front of him again, twisted into a chilling smile. 

“Look at what our soldiers brought home from their last raid,” he cooed, holding up a ripped scrap of fabric.

Roman’s eyes widened as he saw his own personal crest embroidered into a familiar purple cloth. 

_No, please no…_

“I am not a fool, your highness,” the inquisitor said smoothly. “I know you have been holding onto the hope that your knight might come and save you.” 

Roman looked away, but the inquisitor grabbed his chin, forcing him to look forward. 

“But your precious Sir Virgil isn’t coming for you now,” he spat, holding the torn piece of Virgil’s cloak up to Roman’s face. “My men made sure of that.” 

Tears welled unbidden in Roman’s eyes, and the inquisitor chuckled. 

“It seems you need some time to process the news,” he said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Take your time, I’ll be here when you feel ready to talk.” 

He let the torn bit of cloak flutter to the ground, then spun on his heel and left, the cell door clanging shut behind him. 

Roman choked on a sob the moment he was alone, and his knees buckled completely beneath him. His already aching arms screamed in protest, but the pain all over his body was nothing, _nothing_ compared to the absolute _agony_ that was coursing through his very soul. It was as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest and a burning hot coal left in its place, scorching his body from the inside out until he was nothing more than an aching, hollow husk. 

Virgil was gone. 

Nothing else mattered now, not the kingdom, not his father, not even his own life. Virgil was the one thing that had let him endure this hellish place; without him, no amount of breathing techniques and daydreams could keep Roman going. It didn’t matter now if any of the other knights were still looking for him. Even if he was somehow rescued, what was the point of going on without Virgil? Tears streamed down his cheeks, and for the first time in all his days of captivity, Roman gave himself over to despair.

* * *

Pounding footsteps and shouting eventually roused Roman from his stupor and he looked up, blinking to try and clear his blurry vision. There was a loud *bang!* and another shout, and Roman didn’t have the energy to suppress his flinch at the sound. This was nothing new, they had done this many times before. 

After a failed session with the inquisitor, sometimes he’d be brought immediately back to his cell, but sometimes he’d be left in the torture chamber alone for hours. When they left him, one of two things would happen next. Either the inquisitor would come back for another round of torture, or a mob of guards would storm in and take turns using his battered body as a punching bag. Roman guessed the never-ending, unpredictable cycle of torment was supposed to make him break. 

Roman wondered if today would be the day it worked. 

There was more shouting, then the door to the torture room flew open, slamming agianst the stone wall. Roman hung his head, bracing himself for the first round of beatings, but for some reason, the barrage of blows didn’t come. Instead, there was a sharp intake of breath, a rush of footsteps, and a familiar voice gasping his name.

“Roman?”

Roman’s eyes fluttered open, and an impossible pair of deep blue eyes stared back at him.

“Am...am I dead?” he asked with a frown, because that was the only explanation for those eyes, the only way they could be real and not some cruel trick being played on him by his imagination

But the eyes just filled with tears, and then hands, warm and solid and _real_ reached out and cupped his face, and Roman’s breath hitched in his throat. 

“Virgil?” he whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

Virgil nodded, stroking the side of Roman’s face with his thumb. 

“It’s me, Princey,” he murmured. “It’s alright, it’s me...I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” 

He reached up, and after a moment of fiddling with the chains around Roman’s wrists, gave a soft cry of victory as the cuffs sprang open and the chains fell away. 

Roman slumped forward, and Virgil caught him instantly, easing them both to the ground. 

“Oh god, what did they do to you?” Virgil asked, his eyes sweeping over Roman’s body and taking in his injuries, but Roman could only stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“You’re here,” Roman said hoarsely, scanning Virgil’s face and taking in every single detail: the sweep of his bangs, the knit to his brow, the bruise on his forehead, the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. “You’re really here.” 

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Virgil said softly. “The bastards did a damn good job covering their tracks, and–” 

“I thought they’d killed you,” Roman gasped before Virgil could finish. “They...they told me that you...that they…” he whimpered, burying his face in Virgil’s chest and sobbing. 

Virgil wrapped his arms around him, cupping the back of Roman’s head and pulling him close. One hand started running gently through his hair, and Roman sucked in a breath, shuddering under the touch. Virgil jerked his hand away as though it had been burned, stammering out the beginnings of an apology, but Roman interrupted,

“N-no...please don’t stop?” 

Virgil relaxed, and pressed a kiss to the top of Roman’s head before slipping his fingers back into his hair. Roman melted into Virgil’s arms, and a few more tears slid down his cheeks as the tension in his body slowly bled away. 

“I’ve got you now, Roman,” Virgil murmured. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I know,” Roman said softly, letting his eyes drift shut. “I know.” 

And for the first time since he’d been captured, Roman smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm so happy I was able to get this written, It's giving me motivation to work on other projects some more, something I've been lacking a bit lately. I'm not sure which will come out first, but whatever it is, I hope you enjoy it!


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